At first I was bothered by the sailors pulling the gun carriage with the queen’s coffin. Why should men do the work of horses? Then I understood. They had participated personally and could tell their grandchildren they had acted as royal pallbearers.

Years ago I heard that a friend’s mother had died suddenly. I was late for the funeral and sat on the aisle. After the brief service, the funeral director asked for volunteers to move the coffin to the hearse. I jumped up without thinking. The coffin was on wheels, so it took minimal effort and less than a minute. But I felt I had done something personal for my friend, even if he might not have seen it.

What you actually do with your hands has significance greater than anything you merely talk about or write about. In the era of the internet, that’s something to remember. I was there for my friend. They were there for their queen. It was personal.